Page 392 of Hate Mates

Once you are forced to shift, you’re stuck that way for the rest of the full moon. I have spent more than one night sleeping in the covered delivery bay.

“I can’t eat those. They are outside my macros.” Starla doesn’t wait for me to set down the beignets before griping.

“They’re on the house, ma’am.”

“Just skip your drink or go for a jog when the rain stops.” Benji takes his coffee from me with a tense “Thanks,” before reaching into his pocket.

I set down the dessert plate between them, the chocolate and caramel written proposal carefully drawn on the edge in swirling loops. I really don’t want to see this. “Enjoy.” Stepping back, my body shivers and ears twitch a full second before I register the sound of cars honking. Loud bleating horns echo through the room as brakes squeal and then a crash sounds down below. A thud follows and then a cracking rush, and spiderwebs spread up the glass wall beyond the café’s tables. “Watch out!” I yell, pointing toward the rapidly splintering window.

The webbing cracks more and more, leading up to the curving panels held in place with steel beams, and then it all comes raining down in a storm of broken glass and dreams.Guests scatter, scrambling for the main area of the restaurant, away from the falling glass and torrential rain.

Rain. Reaching up, I cover my head with the plastic serving tray, knowing it’s all too late for me. I have minutes at best before the change is noticeable.

“No. No. No. No.” Numb, panicked even, Benji sits wide-eyed and white knuckled where he clenches the table as rain soaks him. He doesn’t yell, just sits there with his dark curls plastering down onto his face as his sweater clings to him.

Starla shrieks as she brushes glass and water off her dress and gets up from her seat. “Benjamin, don’t just sit there! Do something! Get me a jacket! I’m going to call my lawyer.”

“I-I-I….” He’s in shock. Must be. “I have to go.”

Camera flashes as bright as the lightning become a painful strobe light as people yell questions and demand to know if he proposed or not. They want the scoop more than they care about people’s health.

“The Café will handle everything, sir. Please see our hostess for any injuries. We have a first aid kit in the kitchen.” He could be hurt. I glance over him to check for blood, and that’s when I see the reason for his panic: his eyes now have a vertical pupil. He’s a shifter, too! “Mr. Devona, Benji,” I say in a gentler tone when he doesn’t look up. “There’s a VIP emergency exit away from the guests through the kitchen. If you’ll follow me.”

“I’ll come, too.”

I shake my head, feeling my ears changing as my hair moves against them. “No. You’re not on my allowed list.” Knowing I shouldn’t, I grab for Benji’s wrist and pull, doing my best to think we’re still just four and playing outside of school, and I’m going to show him some cool rock I found, not sneak him out past a room full of paparazzi before they can discover his family’s dirty secret.

How can my family be sent away while his is still here? Pain burns in my throat with unshed tears and unheard screams.

He follows me, his body knowing what to do even if his mind hasn’t quite caught up from the shock yet. Weaving through panicking crowds and servers helping clean barely bleeding scratches, I get Benji into the back hallway that leads to the kitchen and out to the delivery bay. “This way,” I tell him, briefly chancing a glance back. Already, he’s getting shorter, his body compacting as it shifts form. Black and blue-grey tortoiseshell patches bloom on his visible skin as tiny hairs slowly turn to fur.Shit. He’s changing fast.

“Where is your car?” When he looks at me blankly, I add, “Did you drive yourself or have a driver?”

“George.”

Okay. I can work with that. “Is he still here?”

He nods. “Can’t be seen like this.” A tail pops out the top of his pants waistband that is way too loose as his body shrinks.

I all but run, dragging him with me, as I get him to the delivery area. Broken windows and doors clanging in the wind are far from the posh interior of where we came from. He definitely won’t be comfortable, but we’ll be hidden from prying eyes at least. “Text someone then and tell them you’re safe. I have a place you can go.”

He obviously doesn’t let the change happen often. I can slow mine down for at least six or seven minutes. He has no concept of control. He fumbles with his phone and unlocks it, then lets out a sharp hiss as his fingertips become claws.

“I’ve got it. Go over there, behind the boxes.” Opening his phone, I grit my ever-sharpening teeth and breathe slowly as I find “Mom” in his contacts. Please let us finish our change without being found. My feet have begun shrinking, becoming closer to paws in shape, and I easily step out of my shoes without unlacing them as I type.

Texting her quickly, I hope it’s enough. “Caught in rain. Changing. Found a safe space.”

I power it off and tuck his phone into my skirt pocket and zip it shut. There’s no one for me to text on mine. Veronique will realize what happened when I don’t show up for work tomorrow. She’ll check for my shoes here, and if she finds them, set out water and some food. We’re going to have until at least mid-afternoon tomorrow before the moon has lost enough fullness to allow us to shift back. Lucky me, I’m stuck with him for all that.

Keeping the apron on, I carefully fold the rest of my clothing piece by piece, ignoring the cold wind blustering through the open bay doors. I look around to make sure no one has come through behind us or gone to the truck delivery door. No one is within range of my ears, and I’d be able to pick up their heartbeats or the faintest whisper if they are within fifty feet, perhaps even more.

“How are you doing?” I ask while squeezing between the boxes and cold cement wall. My tummy scrapes against the boxes as I sidestep into my emergency den. There’s no one here. Did he somehow get outside without me noticing? Listening, I hear a much faster than human heartbeat from behind the other stack of boxes. “Benji?”

Meow. A questioning sound, more chirp than a normal cat vocalization, is accompanied by the emerging face of a still-wet Devon Rex. Well, that explains the last name.

“We’ll be safe here. Go up there on the shelf out of the wind.” I tuck the damp clothes onto the edge of the shelf after the cat jumps up and disappears into the shadows, and then I sit down on an old stack of boxes, grimacing at how wet they are from the rain seeping through the broken windows. I’ll have to do something about making it more comfortable back here. Not that I plan on sharing it with anyone again.

Untying the apron’s neck strap, I stop fighting my shift and let it all but turn me inside out as I go as red as my dyed hair, all fluffy and instantly warmer. Being a Shiba Inu with a double coat is a nice advantage during these winter rains. Being able to smell the mildew, mice, and a way-too-pungent garbage can with a super sensitive dog nose is the less advantageous aspect. It’s a worthy trade off.

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